The Night of the Entangling Fall
by Sambev
Summary: Jim had heard so many ‘no, I’m so sorry’, ‘no, sorry, I wish I could help’ and similar answers that he couldn’t immediately answer the squat little man who had suddenly drew the words straight from his mouth before Jim could say them.
1. Chapter 1

(Artiespet did the beta reading for me on this story, and she did a fabulous job. So I'll have to insist you say thaaaank you to her, yes, with extra a's. And I hope you enjoy my story, both for being engaging and also for being posted all at once. I had a couple inspirations, one being the concept of entanglement, the second being that I wanted to have Jim be more involved, and the third being that I wanted to have some nicely irritating side characters. Anyway, enjoy!)

* * *

The Night of the Entangling Fall

Chapter one:

"I'm sorry Mr. West, but he can't understand you."

Artie was sitting, slouched against the wall, just sitting, and his eyes were vacant. Jim stepped forward and brought his face close to Artie's. Nothing. There was nothing in them.

_Jim. Jim!_ _Jim, don't believe him! I'm here, I'm looking at you. Right at you! Jim, don't leave! _Jim moved from his line of sight, but Artie's eyes couldn't follow.

Jim turned to the door being held open for him, and unconsciously squeezed the brim of his hat. He scrutinized the man sitting on the cot. His hair was limp, face unwashed and almost unfamiliar. It was Artie, but it wasn't.

He stepped out and Doctor Roysden pushed the white painted door shut.

_Jim!_

Glancing once through the small window Jim could just see the mop of dark hair, and still disbelieving lifted his head to catch a glimpse of Artie's dark eyes. Jim was unaware of his partner's hope that sparked and died within the instant before he walked away.

Doctor Roysden had seemed somber before when comforting his visitor, but was more than happy now that the door was closed. It was an amusement he was obviously keeping somewhat detained though. "So you say the man's name is Artemus Gordon?" He asked, bouncing along with his fingers in his suspenders. They reached the office after passing through a hall lined with identical doors with small identical windows that Jim refused to glance into.

"Yes, and he's a government agent." Jim's voice was low, almost threatening. "You have to tell me who brought him here, and how long he has been here... and what condition he was in..." Jim bit off the rest of his questions, knowing he wouldn't get any answers at all that way.

The man nodded, and his head seemed to bounce like the rest of him did when he walked, but he otherwise ignored Jim. " Bern ! Miss. Decker! Please join me in the office." The other two doctors also bounced and smiled and made Jim feel cold with their soothingly cheerful attire. "The new patient's name is Artemus!" Roysden pronounced the name as if it were foreign and difficult. "None of us were even close!"

Miss. Decker had graying hair that was once obviously red, but in its aged and faded form it had become almost pink. She smiled, "Oh, and here I thought he was a Harry, because he had the same lively eyes as my uncle! We certainly _were_ very wrong!"

"But, you know who wasn't?" Bern spoke. Jim fingered his hat and tried not to look as awkward and offended as he felt.

Miss Decker produced a pitcher of water and four tin cups. "We don't keep liqueurs on the premises, does nothing for the mind. But, then, nothing is more refreshing than water." She set the cups and began to pour for them. "These cups were from the kitchen, that's alright isn't it doctor."

"Oh yes. Should be." He said quickly and chose one. "Thank you Marsha." He drank. Jim looked at the glass, not wanting to be rude, yet at the same time not exactly wanting fake a good attitude where he had none. Jim took a polite sip, it was bitter but water was often bitter in Colorado. Especially in places that depended on well water instead of a river source. Still, Jim set the cup down and refused to touch it again. Dr. Roysden nodded and lifted his glass slightly in a silent cheer.

The four of them turned towards another room where various patients were lounging. Jim being the last to turn when he finally noticed their switch in attention. A thin man, bent, wearing the same white linen shirt and trousers that Artie and the other patient's wore, peered around the doorway.

"You guessed that the new man's name began with a vowel, didn't you Mr. Everitt?" Bern said. They all smiled ridiculously as the man stepped towards them, sideways, and muttered under his breath before finally joined them in the office. The patient looked at Jim, his eyes completely comprehending something that likely didn't exist, and poked Jim in the shoulder with two fingers.

Jim didn't move and even managed a reassuring smile, but he shattered on the inside, and knew he needed to leave if he was going to hold his temper. The man poked the three doctors in the same spot on the same shoulder before he seemed content. "I was right? I was right wasn't I?" He stopped and thought.

"Yes, you sure were!"

Jim was sure by then that he would never be able to tell Dr. Roysden and this other Doctor, Bern , apart. It was easy to confuse them when they were constantly in motion and continuously finishing each other's sentences. Although when Jim actually looked at them together they looked nothing alike. One of them was blonde and balding with a small mustache, the other was younger and ginger haired with spectacles. Jim didn't consider himself especially knowledgeable about the mentally ill in any way but, he imagined, it probably was not that helpful for anyone who was already considered insane to have to deal with two men who apparently always knew what the other was thinking.

"Dr. Roysden." Jim said firmly. "I must speak with you, all of you. Mr. Gordon will have to be taken to Washington immediately..."

"Oh that reminds me!" Jim was cut off. "Would you believe that Artemus is also a government employee!" The doctor also said government employee as if it were foreign.

Everitt coughed, "A spy... Probably not, probably not, probably... not even a real patient. Faking it." He was a lucid enough man to be childishly jealous of his Doctors' new favorite patient.

Miss. Decker smiled and waved a hand dismissively at the nonsense, "Nonsense Morgan, why don't you go finish that game of chess you were playing?"

Once the man had wandered off again they turned their full attention to Jim for probably the first time that day. "Mr. West, your friend is a very sick man, I don't recommend a long trip _at all_."

"Besides, this is one of the best state hospitals there is! He'll receive no better care than he will here!"

"Oh yes, in other places they still put patients in chains as if they're prisoners, giving them water dogs wouldn't drink! Can you imagine!"

'Imagine' was another word that seemed strange coming out of the mouth of... whichever of the crew was speaking. Jim could hardly tell, he just wanted to leave. "Why don't I come back tomorrow? The sun is starting to set, and we can talk through all this in more detail in the morning." Jim said, trying to sound unconcerned.

"That would do nicely Mr. West." He was shone to the door and was surprised to see that the sun actually was setting. "Good evening, we look forward to tomorrow!"

Jim smiled and nodded as he mounted his horse. He was grateful for the fresh air and the silence and solitude. He led his horse back to the train mostly by muscle memory.

Almost two weeks he had been making trips like this back to the Wanderer from prisons and morgues, hospitals and asylums. Each time hoping he would have a message waiting when he got back, or even better, he would find his partner there waiting and laughing at him for worrying, with nothing more serious than a long story to tell.

The train was in sight now, with no lights on in the parlor car. Jim drew the horse to a stop and tried to think of what he would say in his telegram. His eyebrow knitted together and he found he was suddenly sweating. He slid off his stallion and dropped to his knees at the side of the road. His hands wavered in the dirt and Jim wondered why he suddenly felt so ill.

His horse waited patiently on the road while Jim slammed his fist into the ground with a frustrated curse.

wWwWw

_It was nearly noon before Jim even arrived at the Colorado State Hospital. "My name his James West." Jim had knocked for at least five minutes before the door was answered, and by then he was fresh out of patience. "And I'm looking for my friend, he's tall, dark hair..."_

_Jim had heard so many 'no, I'm so sorry', 'no, sorry, I wish I could help' and similar answers that he couldn't immediately answer the squat little man who had suddenly drew the words straight from his mouth before Jim could say them._

_"Brown eyes and he was wearing fringed riding jacket? Please come inside, Mr. West, I'm glad you're here!" Jim nodded, suddenly tense, and removed his hat. "My name is Dr. Roysden, you can call me Charles. Can I get you anything?"_

_"Take me to him." Jim ordered, then softened his tone. "Please."_

_"Certainly, but perhaps I ought to first caution you."_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two:

Dr. Roysden was up early and wearing his favorite red shirt. It was bright and cheerful and many of the patients seemed to respond well to it. He and the other doctors lived in the hospital in the separate room behind the office that was used mostly for storage. It certainly wasn't glamorous, or even comfortable at times, but it meant a lot to be near the patients at all hours. They were his first priority after all.

As he passed down the long hall of the patients' rooms he looked in every window. There were fifteen patients in all with the new arrival included. Most of them were sleeping peacefully, although some stared off, and one was reading a book. Everything was normal and calm and perfect.

He unlocked the door to his new patient's, Artemus Gordon, room. It was locked, not because he was worried about the man wandering away, but because he didn't want another patient wandering in. The man was in such a delicate state after all.

Mr. Gordon was where he was been left the night before, lying flat on his cot. The wool blanket still creaseless where it had been draped over him. His deep brown eyes were staring up at the ceiling.

"Good morning." Roysden said, although he knew the man couldn't hear him. With a sort of hidden strength a man had to have for his field he lifted Mr. Gordon into a sitting position and propped him comfortably against the wall. Out of his trouser pocket he pulled a glass bottle and a tin cup for medicines and measured out a small amount.

Artemus jerked his head and the cup fell to the tiled floor before Roysden could lift it to his lips. The doctor just chuckled, "Oh my my, you are restless today!" He hooked his fingers in his suspenders, stretching his back, and was perfectly calm. "I know what would make you feel better Artemus, a good shave, so you look presentable for your friend."

Roysden left the room, humming, and Artemus was left alone. He never moved; an unfortunate vegetable whose only animations were the small muscle spasms that occurred before one of the doctors gave him his drink. On the second try the doctor held Artemus' chin gently before putting a fresh cup to his lips. "There, that ought to keep you still until tomorrow at least." He cleaned up the spilled medicine from the floor in good humor and prepared his patient for a fresh shave. "We can't have Mr. West becoming suspicious." He tapped Artemus lightly on the chin with his knuckles in an almost fatherly gesture then stood back to inspect his work.

There were gentle sounds coming from the other side of the building. By familiarity they told him that his coworkers were up and beginning their morning chores. Smiling wide Roysden collected his items and went to greet them and his other patients good morning.

wWwWw

Jim hadn't slept well and when the sun began to come in his window he stopped trying. Instead he got up and began to dress himself for his meeting with Mr. Roysden and the two other members of Colorado 's State Hospital . He washed, but he still felt unclean. When he looked in the mirror he could almost see, or thought he saw, his own anxiety like dirt on his face.

The doctor's _caution_ was still echoing, sometimes in the doctor's voice and sometimes in his own, in a constant cycle. It had been so strange, almost too strange for him to accept. "_When he first arrived here, August the seventh, he had a terrible head wound. Luckily Bern is also an experienced surgeon as well as being an expert in the psychological field, and was able to save his life but..."Roysden calmly told Jim when he had stepped inside._

Jim curled his fingers around his coffee cup until the penetrating heat began to burn them then he relaxed his grip. He couldn't sit still anymore and wait for a proper hour, he had an investigation to conduct, and they were just going to have to accommodate him.

This time when he rang the bell the answer came more quickly. "Miss..." Jim paused at the door and removed his hat.

"Miss Decker." The woman said, turning her faded green eyes up at him. "Yes, you can call me Marsha if you would like though Mr. West. Oh! And please come inside, silly me."

Jim followed her in and tried to hide the fact that he was uneasy. He didn't know how to behave around people who were labeled "insane", and almost felt guilty for it as if he should know. "I would like a private interview with all with the doctors and yourself immediately if you would be so kind."

Bern, whose proper name Jim never caught, entered from a small dining hall in a apron. "Hello Mr. West! I'd shake your hand but I've got rice all over me!" He laughed.

"Is Christopher acting childish again?" Miss. Decker laughed with him and turned to Jim. "Perhaps you would like to visit your friend while we help the other patients finish their breakfast?" She caught Bern's eye as she said this and seemed to be aiming the question at him, because he nodded reassuringly. "I'm sure Artemus would like that. He's still in his room." She leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. "We've been rather favoring him because he's so new you know, but don't tell."

"That would be fine." Jim didn't miss the look that passed between the two, he simply didn't know what to make of it so he stashed it away.

He let Miss. Decker lead him back to Artie's room and smiled each time she turned to glance at him. Once he was inside, she left the door partially open. "So you don't feel trapped. Visitors sometimes do in these little rooms." Jim looked at his boots and waited until the lady's footsteps had disappeared then looked out into the hall just to be sure.

_Jim! I'm so glad you're here. I thought you weren't coming back. Jim, I have to tell you something important, _

"Artie? Please tell me this is a bad joke."

_It is a bad joke! Darnit, why can't you tell I'm right here?_

Jim had bent in close to catch his partner's eyes but turned his attention up to the dirty hair and found the nearly healed gash beneath his bangs.

_No, look at me Jim! What did they tell you? They're lying._

Jim sat back on his heels and looked at the floor. In the cracks in the tiles there were the remains of a dark liquid that was spilled and stuck in the mortar. For a moment he scrutinized it.

_Yes yes!_

It stood out enough to catch his eye and make him wonder but wasn't enough to really make him suspicious. He stood up and pulled his jacket back into shape.

"Why is this happening?" They wondered at the same time.

"I know it's difficult Mr. West. Come, let's sit in the office and answer any questions you have."

_Stay here! I want to hear. Jim, tell them you want to talk in here!_

"Thank you." Jim smiled and followed the man back into the office.

_Don't go! You're in danger!_

The patients were in the sitting room, playing chess or reading or talking, or giving the appearance that they were going one of those things. "Have a seat." Extra chairs had been brought in so the four of them could sit around a large writing desk.

Jim didn't waste any time. "How did Mr. Gordon get here?"

They all opened their mouths to answer at once then chuckled at the occurrence. Finally Bern spoke for them. "He was actually found by an old mill further up in the hills that's been abandoned since the creek ran dry. The people who found him are actually cousins of Marsha, isn't that right?"

"Yes it sure is, my cousins Peter and Oscar. They were hunting the elk in that area and found Mr. Gordon right out in the brush behind it..."

"Where could I find this mill, and your two cousins if I wanted to speak with them?"

"Ohh, I'll draw you up a map." She reached over Dr. Roysden to open a draw and pull out a pad of paper and a pencil. "They live up the hill, it's lovely land, even more so up where the mill is on Parson Cove."

"They're good chaps too." Roysden said, "They brought Artemus here instead of the regular hospital because they new about Bern's medical experience."

"Also they thought there might be more wrong with the poor man than just that cut on his head."

"Yes, he was quite a lot worse when he was brought in than he is now. Your friend has really made a lot of progress."

Jim was really beginning to hate all three of them, although he had no real reason for it. He glanced away from their faces and took a deep, secretive breath. Maybe his growing dislike was because they talked about his partner like he was a stray cat they had adopted. Or maybe it was because they called being completely immobile _progress_. "You said he had a head injury? I saw it, it doesn't seem very serious. What else was there?"

"No it wasn't very deep at all. It's more about _where_ it was."

Miss Decker flicked the paper in her hand and passed it to him. She watched as Jim looked over the directions then smiled and tucked it into his jacket. "While we're certain there has been some brain damage we believe there is more to the story than that!"

"Well of course!" Roysden agreed.

They all leaned forward and seemed like children with a naughty secret. "See, although we don't know what happened to Mr. Gordon it must have been truly terrible! It's a disorder we've been studying for quite some time because we speculate that many of our patient's illnesses stem for terrible experiences, and those experiences show themselves in different ways."

"In Mr. Gordon's case he seems to have withdrawn into himself rather completely, much more so than the damage to his brain alone would have caused."

Jim stared down at his lap, and found he was clenching his jaw and made himself relax. There was a lot of new information to process and he didn't quite know how to juggle it all, but they kindly let him sit in silence for a while.

"Oh, just a moment!" Miss. Decker jumped up and disappeared into a back room before Jim could even look up. "This is the clothing he was found in, I thought you should have them." She said and placed a paper wrapped parcel before him.

Forgetting his company for a moment Jim unwrapped the packet and sifted through the items. His boots were there, and the outfit Jim was sure he had last seen Artie in with his hat and empty gun belt on top. "No ID? Or wallet?"

"No, I'm sorry. If there had been we'd have known who to contact." Dr. Roysden didn't sound quite as enthusiastic in his answer to that, so Jim decided to let the matter drop momentarily.

"So, if you're saying that Art... Mr. Gordon is... traumatized, then can he recover?" Jim didn't really believe that was the case. After the civil war and years as a secret service agent it was unlikely that there was anything that could traumatize Artemus Gordon.

"Oh yes! We are working very hard to help him!"

"Oh course, I think you should keep in mind that he'll never be quite the same." The doctor didn't seem to hold this fact as being very weighty so he rather failed in presenting it delicately to Jim. "It's quite possibly his personality will have even changed, and he'll certainly never be as intelligent."

"But don't loose hope!" Miss. Decker pushed in. "He may perhaps even speak again someday with all our hard work! In fact, Dr. Roysden even said he moved his head this morning!"

"Sure did, knocked the cup clean out of my hand when I was giving him some water!"

Jim's green eyes grew sharp but he kept his face stoic. "You've all been very helpful, and I appreciate all the hard work your doing for my partner. Thank you." He stood to leave, almost blinded by his racing thoughts as he shook hands with everyone, more hands than there seemed to be people to own them. "Do you mind if I say goodbye? I know he can't hear me but..."

"Oh, of course you may. We know exactly how you feel."

Jim dropped on his haunches again and placed a comforting hand on his friend's knee. His other hand dropped between his own to the floor. "Bye Artie. I'm really sorry." With a tiny vial he had taken from the inner pocket of Artie's coat he scrapped some of the dried liquid up and slipped it into his jacket sleeve.


	3. Chapter 3

_When the carriage began to move forward Artie pulled the curtains together as if to block the sun. What Artie really wanted to do was stretch out on the seat and take a nap but every time he set his mind free to wander and relax it came back running over details and evidence that he could go no further with until he reached his next destination._

_He wanted more to think over. He wanted there to be some kind of revelation to seek out, but he knew the facts and he had the names, he just needed to be pointed in the right direction. Until then, he had at least an hour of tedium in the back of a rather unsteady feeling carriage to ride out before he could do anything, then more hours of tedium until he could speak with Jim or Colonel Richmond and finally get everything moving along._

_The question he wanted answered was the one that would end the case. Where was their target? A man as important as a senator couldn't hide forever. He was too refined in his ways, too educated in his speech and actions. Anyone in Colorado would be able to recall having met the man and luckily for Artie they did. The Senator left a trail of mannerisms each average people the man traded gold for cash and cash for secrets would be unable to forget. Fortunately, those secrets were easily let go with a little finesse and more cash, Artie smirked._

_He leaned his head back and willed himself to relax, but, admitting defeat pulled a notepad from his coat pocket. 'Jim. Not all that glitters is gold, usually it's fools gold because not everyone can afford the real thing.' He paused and smirked and imagined his partner's polite but impatient smile. 'Chickweed Inn, family owned, nice, uneducated, and most importantly, uninvolved people. Senator Millard ordered eggs and roasted bell peppers three nights running. A fitting spend for the Treasury's stolen gold isn't it? Millard told the family that he was going to visit family he hadn't seen for a long time and he was going to surprise them. An elaborate lie or a convenient truth from an overconfident fugitive? On Parson Cove in Greenly.' Artie stopped writing, feeling suddenly less restless. He figured he was probably just nervous about forgetting to tell Jim or the Colonel about one of details he had learned by the time he got back to the train. He tore out the page, but on second thought decided to finish the faux letter. 'If there are a lot of houses I shall pretend I've lost my cat (Horatio, a tabby) so I can knock on all the doors. -Artie.' _

_The carriage slowed and suddenly thinking that someone was about to open the door he folded it twice and tucked it quickly into the band of his hat where it wouldn't escape and cause trouble or confuse and disturb some poor soul who happened to pick it up. Finally he set his head back against the seat and let himself doze while he was carried to the next town._

wWwWw

Jim dropped the parcel with Artie's things in it on the table by the telegraph. Then he set the little vial of dried liquid he'd found in Artie's hospital room next to it with a little more care. The problem was that the vial could sit and sit with all its secrets and there wasn't anything Jim could do about it. He didn't know what it was; iodine maybe or something else used for cleaning wounds. Maybe it was something important, something he needed to know about, but he didn't know how to analyze it. That's why he had been assigned a partner with knowledge in chemistry. Now, by the time he sent it to someone to analyze and heard back a hundred things could have happened.

He tossed his hat and jacket in a chair and turned to the parcel. Briefly he had felt the pockets in Artie's jacket, that's when he had felt the vial and decided to take it, but he hadn't been able to examine them as closely as he'd have liked. Carefully he searched all the hidden pockets and all the linings but found nothing that would give him a clue. But he did find it odd that it hadn't been washed. There was dried mud on the clothing, and the boots were badly scuffed. Afterwards he searched the shirt and the vest and the pants pockets but still found nothing.

Scratching his neck then running his hand roughly up through his hair, the air almost seemed to simmer with the frustration that was barely hinted at on his face. _What can I do?_ He pulled out a chair and sat with his elbows on his knees. Thinking and replaying and searching for any possible answer until his mind finally began to wander. It was the closest he had come to actual rest for a long time.

The instant his eyes landed on Artie's hat he saw the slight lump under the band. Jim blinked, after a beat he impatiently seized it, squeezed his fore and middle fingers beneath the band and managed to hook and slide out a paper, then he dropped the hat back onto the table. Jim didn't really think it was so unusual to find a note in Artie's handwriting, but the circumstances were too great to assume it wasn't important. _'Jim._ His fingers tightened around the paper._ Not all that glitters is gold, usually it's fools gold because not everyone can afford the real thing. Chickweed Inn, family owned, nice, uneducated, and most importantly, uninvolved people. Senator Millard ordered eggs and roasted bell peppers three nights running. A fitting spend for the Treasury's stolen gold isn't it? Millard told the family that he was going to visit family he hadn't seen for a long time and he was going to surprise them. An elaborate lie or a convenient truth from an overconfident fugitive? On Parson Cove in Greenly.'_

Jim's eyes wandered away from the paper out the window and onto the yellow ground and the short pines that were simmering gently under the noon sun. He had known the note was just Artie's way of trying to organize his thoughts from the comment about the eggs. The handwriting was somewhat sloppy and pitched in areas as if Artie had been moving when he wrote it and had stopped intending for it to be read by another before he had written very far.

_Parson Cove_,he thought, reflecting on Artie's words. He pulled out the other note from his coat pocket and unfolded that, smoothing both out on the table. It was labeled _Parson Cove, above Greenly. _That's where the kindly Miss. Decker had drawn a map to, and that's where Artie been going. What state he was in when he got there was another concern. Jim had already been planning to go there, but at least now he knew that the senator's case and his partner's condition were connected. At least now Jim had someone to blame.

He was still on edge and nervous, and somehow despite everything felt like he was dealing with death. He hated the doctors' brutal honesty when telling him that the man, Artemus Gordon, was essentially dead even if his body wasn't. Taking a deep breath Jim looked back to the note and almost smiled as he finished. '_If there are a lot of houses I shall pretend I've lost my cat (Horatio, a tabby) so I can knock on all the doors and inquire about the poor lost dear. -Artie.'_

His mind was made up and he couldn't sit still any longer. Jim was back into his hat and coat just minutes after he'd taken them off and was glad he had left his horse saddled. He had a couple of cousins to question and an abandoned mill to find.

wWwWw

_Artie knew there was going to be trouble when the carriage slowed, but he knew they couldn't possibly be there yet. He had never found himself on the wrong side of a gun as often as did since his partnership with Jim began. It was almost like some kind of infection he'd caught. Then the driver opened the door and smiled, and Artie smiled back, feeling happy for once that he must have been wrong. _

_"Here we are Mister. This is as far up as I can get the carriage I'm afraid, since the road thins out."_

_"Oh, sure, I understand. That's what happens when you build your town on the side of a mountain, right?" _

_The driver grinned and shrugged. "But your escort looks like a good group of local boys. I bet they know a short cut up to Parson Cove, if you're going there, to save you some walking."_

_"My escort?" Artie answered in a low voice and leaned outside. He did in fact have an escort although he wasn't supposed to. Up the road stood two good looking local boys alright, wearing smirks and murder in their eyes. Artie considered getting back into the carriage and telling the driver he'd changed his mind, but one of the two men had already trotted his horse forward until he was staring down on the top of Artie's head._

_The man looked at the driver and tossed him a coin, "Thanks mister, we appreciate it." The look he gave Artemus was perfectly clear. Try anything smart and you both die. Artie let the carriage turn back and pick its way down the wagon road, leaving him behind._

_"Hello." Artie said, finally turning back once there was nothing left in sight but a settling cloud of dust. "It's kind of you to offer me an escort but I'm certain I'll make my way up alright. Maybe you could tell me where I could rent a horse though?" Artie stuck his fists in his pockets and tried to look unsuspecting. He couldn't grab his gun, not with the man on his horse a foot away with his own now pointed on him. Artie waited for the other one who was coming near and hoped he wouldn't need it._

_"Sorry. Senator Millard wants the best for all his old buddies from Washington. Come on." The man edged his horse away and motioned that Artie should follow. "Oh, and give me that." Artie gave up his pistol, mindful of the two aimed at him, and let his arms hang non-threateningly at his sides. Besides, he had other means of defending himself. _

_He was sure Millard didn't know him, not personally anyway, but maybe through stories that got passed around or from the newspaper. Surely, though, the man would have experience with agents in one way or another. Usually, Artie knew, the most Congressmen ever saw of the Secret Service was two men perched outside a door or escorting another official. Yet, Millard must know enough to pick Artie out. In fact, both of his kindly escorts probably had a photo of him in their wallets._

_He followed them up the thin horse trail to Parson Cove on foot. He was, naturally, unwilling but aware that if he hadn't met them at the bottom it would have been inevitable at the top._

_"So you two are brothers I'm guessing? That's nice, being able to work together…" Artie said vaguely. When they both shot him vile looks that told him that he was both correct and that they weren't interesting in making nice, he focused on watching his boots collect mud and trying to think up a plan._

wWwWw

Jim liked the horse that had been lent to him. The big mare was so loyal she was almost like a big affectionate dog who loved carrots. Yet she was so much the opposite of his own stallion that he could like her without it feeling like betrayal. He also liked Peter and Oscar, the two cousins of Miss Decker who had discovered Artie and brought him to the State Hospital.

In a small way it was disappointing for Jim to find that he liked the two men, because he was eager to have someone to blame and the earnest good nature he perceived from the two of them was dashing that hope. They were helpful though and Jim was grateful for that. As soon as he'd introduced himself and his investigation they suggested they take him up to Parson Cove where they had been hunting and personally show him around since they knew the place and the best way to it.

"Brothers?" Jim asked, assuming they had to be because their faces were too similar to simply be cousins.

"Yeah." Oscar said from behind and half smiled, "Pete's the baby."

Jim smiled politely. Peter didn't.

Without describing what the doctors had told him, Jim asked the nearest, Peter, about the state his partner was in when they first found him.

Peter thought a moment then looked back at his brother. Jim scrutinized the glance, hoping it was conspiratorial and secretive, but it was blatantly just a look. As if the one was inviting his brother to be part of the story telling. It was simple and brotherly.

"Well, you know cousin Marsha is always talking about her hospital, and her patients, and Charles and Bern. Those three work harder than anyone I've ever met before. They love that hospital and really want to help people."

"That's the sad part." The other brother said. It seemed as if this were a topic that came up often in conversation for them, because they spoke with a sort of pitying familiarity. "They really don't have enough money. Much less than regular hospitals or asylums because their methods are new and different."

"But they work. That kind of stuff makes me real nervous, I honestly thought insane people we're better the way they were, where no one could see them. I didn't know they could get better. That's what so great about Marsha's work. Hardly anyone is interested helping people like that. I know I don't really want to be anywhere near them, but they're good doctors, all three of them, that's why we took your friend there."

"Plus it was closer too." Oscar interjected from behind. "The regular doctor lives closer to Denver than here, you know."

Jim nodded, "That makes sense" and it did, unfortunately. "Go on."

"Right." Peter nodded. Both had seemed slightly intimidated when Jim had introduced himself under his government title, and it was clear they were both trying to be honest without seeming uptight. Jim didn't mind, in fact he encouraged their nervousness with a polite but cold front as long as it got him the honest answers he needed. "So, we found him behind the mill right when we first got up there. You couldn't actually see him but the weeds were all trampled where people had been walking on them. Oscar and me figured maybe it had been another hunter who'd dragged out a deer or elk so we went up that way to see if there were more coming back. That's when we found him."

"There was no one else there?"

"No sir."

"And he had nothing else with him, or around him?" Jim tried to sound casual instead of as eager and annoyed as he felt.

"No sir. Just what he was wearing, but we didn't check his pockets or nothing we figured it didn't matter what his name was until he got help.

Jim nodded, "What about his hat?"

"Oh yeah, that was lying next to him too. I had Pete bring it along, since I figured the guy would be wondering where it went later."

"Okay, go on." The interrogation was just subtle enough where the two seemed pretty relaxed and unaware that Jim was hoping he could make them slip up or contradict each other.

"So anyway," Obviously it had been an interesting enough day for them that the story had not become boring to tell. "His forehead had a cut and he was out cold, but he woke up when we asked if he was, you know, okay before touching him."

The road, which probably started out as a deer trail, thinned out so they had to ride single file with Jim in the middle. Peter raised his voice and continued over his shoulder. "First he was real nervous like he was afraid of us." _Because he was __attacked,_ Jim thought. _Someone tried to murder him and he barely escaped. _"And he was talking, but I didn't really understand what he said though."

"Me neither." Oscar said, "He had that cut on his head, so he must have been real dazed. Of course from what Marsha told us he probably didn't know what he was saying either."

Jim didn't know if he ought to ask them to remember what Artie had said. Just because it seemed like gibberish to them didn't mean it wouldn't be useful for Jim. He figured he would let them finish the story up to the point when Artie reached the hospital then ask. "You carried him to your horses then?" He prompted carefully, rubbing the worn leather reigns between his fingers.

"He was actually walking a little, but he looked real dizzy to me, real faint, so I told Pete we'd better just carry him whether he wanted us to or not."

"Good thing, that guy was out cold again before we even got him to the horses. And he kept waking up kind of half way now and then. Once he asked where he was, and I said almost in Greenly. Then I told him that we were taking him to a doctor who would help him, and that I thought he would be okay."

"It's a real shame." Peter added quietly.

There was a long silence where both seemed reluctant to say anything. Jim kept his eyes on the back of the man in front of him and sat up straight and tried not to seem impatient. "Is there anything else?" He said with helpful calmness.

"Well." Peter slowed his horse and after a moment they all drew to a slow stop on the trail, the horses looking baffled but not entirely interested with no one urging them forward. Peter turned around to look at Jim, his hazel eyes hit the ground and flickered around nervously. "Marsha told us about how that man is now, and Oscar and I were thinking maybe…"

Oscar sighed "We'll tell you the truth." Jim turned in his saddle to look at the other then. "He didn't seem so badly hurt to us, and we were thinking that maybe we made him worse while bringing him down the trail. We don't know much about stuff like that. Maybe we shouldn't have moved him or something."

That wasn't the confession Jim had hoped to hear.

Jim could tell that people had been in the mill recently but they were gone and nothing about what those people might have been doing in there or why remained. He looked at the disturbed dust, the vague foot prints through it, and the broken cobwebs. All the tracks and signs lead to a room that was fairly clean with table in the center and the windows open from recent use, but there wasn't anything to find. The brothers swore they hadn't been inside at all and waited outside while Jim looked the place over. Minutely he could hear them joking and bickering in good humor.

Frustrated, he went to look around the perimeter outside. Jim squatted in the over grown grass behind the mill where Artie had been. Idly he pulled a burr from hem of his blue pants and scanned the ground. _What the heck happened? I know this had something to do with the senator. Artie was going to where Millard was supposed to be. They must have met. So what happened?_ The grass was dry but not dead, so it had had nearly three weeks to grow over any evidence, but Jim looked anyway.

There was nothing to be found anywhere outside either and he hated it. No message, no sign. Jim would have even accepted armed thugs as long as they came with answers to Jim's questions. In fact, he might have preferred it. "I guess that's it. We should head back to town, I need to get back before dark."

"Sure thing Mr. West. I wish we could have helped more."

"Don't worry about it."

They took it slow on the way back and let the horses carefully pick their way down the hill. Jim passed the time, sometimes talking with them but mostly listening while they talking about their wives or their kids. Nothing about it sounded fake or forced. Nothing about it felt threatening.

Artie had even been able to walk a short ways, they had told him. It sounded like he was disoriented, Jim could relate to that. And he was distressed but not…_damaged, _he thought. Regardless, something didn't seem to add up, and no matter which way he looked at the matter the confusion clearly started at the State Hospital.


	4. Chapter 4

One sign that the Colorado State Hospital was well run was the very repetition that occurred from day to day. For someone of unsound mind, which nearly all the patients were in their own way, such repetition could feel like déjà vu. As if the same day was repeating itself over and over again. When something unusual happened it became apparent immediately because the very building itself seemed to groan with the disturbance.

For someone of perfectly sound mind it was frustrating. Repetition that was meant to sooth the disturbed could easily madden the sane.

Artie woke up and his eyes opened. Like every morning he blinked, then blinked again just to make sure it was really him doing it. Like every morning he heard the footsteps of his friendly doctor down the hall and tried to think. Because he could swear that lately even his thinking hadn't seemed completely under his control, and he was sure it wasn't just him being melodramatic.

Then it occurred to him that the best thing he could do to try and protect himself was to do nothing at all.

"Good morning." Roysden said, although he knew his patient could not hear him. Then, with the sort of hidden strength a man had to have for this field, he lifted Mr. Gordon into a sitting position and propped him comfortably against the wall. Out of his own trouser pocket Roysden pulled a glass bottle and a tin cup for medicines and measured out a small amount.

Then Roysden paused, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. Bending close, he focused his own grey eyes on his patient's. He felt the man's pulse and listened at his chest. Thinking carefully for a moment, with his arms crossed over his yellow shirt, Dr. Roysden poured a small amount of the medicine back into the glass bottle before helping his patient to drink.

Inwardly Artie sighed when he was left alone and closed his eyes, or they closed for him. Somehow that had all been very exhausting for him.

wWwWw

_"So you're one of Grant's boys. I think I've seen you before actually." Millard didn't seem outwardly corrupt. At least he had never stuck out to Artie as having bad intentions during any of the open sessions he'd observed. Somehow though, the man seemed a little too common to be a senator, at least in Artie's opinion. That sort of broad shouldered and rowdy looking man usually ended with a job like Artie when they began to work for the government. "I knew someone would be along, and I've been waiting." The Senator said._

_ "You want to negotiate?" Artie smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring. He hoped that Millard didn't really know just how much trouble he was in and would be reasonable, even guilty. He wasn't._

_ "I do, Mr?"_

_ "Gordon, sir." Artie continued to smile and nodded. He didn't like his escorts, who had apparently become his dates by the way they gripped his arms. Why hadn't Jim been sent up here for this task? Artie briefly wished he had thought to slip a smoke bomb into his sleeve._

_"Right, Mr. Gordon, it's a pleasure. I want you to take a message back to President Grant for me."_

_ "Certainly, sir."_

_ Millard fixed his eyes on Artie's. They were about equally matched. Same height, nearly the same age although the senator seemed to have a few more years from the way his temples were graying. "Remember this then. Part one. All you pretty secret service boys need to be called off. I know you've been two days behind me since I left DC. Let me go, Washington can always print more money. Who am I really hurting?"_

_ "Eight thousand dollars is a lot of money Senator."_

_ "I thought so. Part two. Tell the President that I want full clearance to leave the country, and have him remove all these agents from my trail. If you and your little colleagues don't stop snooping around I'll have some of my boys start snooping around to get rid of them. You have one week to let the President know this."_

_ The Senator kept talking before Artie had a chance to explain why that was impossible, or to even lie and promise the Senator's security. "And last, Part three. Give this message to the President as well…"_

_ "Now, just wait…" Artie pushed back and tried to pull his arms free when Millard picked up a shovel and raised it over his shoulder like a club. Arties boot heels slid uselessly on the wooden floor as he tried to twist free. When they finally did let go it was with a rough push forward into the blade of the shovel that was arching towards him._

wWwWw

"Artie." Jim's voice had the kind of awkwardness of someone talking to a wall. He tried not to be that way but it just happened. Miss Decker was with him this time and had practically danced down the hall, peering in windows and checking doors.

When Artie's eyes actually opened at the sound of his name the aging woman clapped her hands. "Oh my! He's so responsive today Mr. West!"

Jim looked at her, and felt like he was seeing something impossible come out of a fairy tale. "More than other days?"

"Certainly, you've come to see him other days and he's hardly moved at all."

It might have been the white cotton suit Artie, and all the patients, wore that made him look so hopelessly unreal. Maybe if the others wore normal clothing they would look like real men as well, Jim thought. He stared down his partner and thought about how they were supposed to have been looking for a thief, then he was looking for Artie, and now he was looking for the thief who had become an attempted murderer.

For an instant he could swear that Artie was staring back and quickly squatted in front of his partner, blocking most of the man from Miss Decker's view.

His heart was beating fast and he hardly dared to admit it was because he was hopeful. Artie's hands were in his lap, placed that way by one of his dutiful doctors, and the fingers twitched. It wasn't spastic but clearly deliberate. Only Jim didn't know what it meant. He held his partner's hands up slightly by the wrist and tried to make sense of the slight gestures.

Artie's cheeks started to flush. Was he frustrated? Jim wanted to believe his partner was trying to communicate with him and willed himself to understand.

"What's going on here?" Miss. Decker said, suddenly hovering over them so closely her thick wool skirt lay on Jim's knee. Her boundless smile was fading quick, and turned to something that looked close to anger. "Oh no, no no Mr. West. You're upsetting him badly." She nearly jerked Artie's hands away from him, and put a hand on her patient's cheek.

Artie was breathless in his efforts, and his eyes were large and glossy with panic but Jim didn't believe it was because of his presence there. "I think he needs to be removed from this hospital." Jim said sternly, threateningly. He hoped it sounded knowing as well. If something really was happening like his gut was telling him, then guilt would bring them closer towards a confession.

"Certainly not Mr. West! I don't care if you're a government representative, this man is severely ill. And all this excitement can kill a person with brain damage as serious as his."

Jim started to feel slightly ill. _Brain damage._ He played the word over in his head, and hated it.

"I'm sorry Mr. West, but I think it would be best if you left."

"I see." Jim wondered in bad humor if he wasn't the ill one because for the first time in his life he was fighting off the urge to punch a woman.

Artie was still, although his heart was going wild. He watched Jim walk out the door with his nurse. Not long after all three of his doctors paid him a visit, but Jim was gone, and Roysden had brought along his little tin measuring cup. He wanted to scream so much that he felt as if he were about to shatter. He knew that trick wouldn't work twice, and every time Jim left Artie couldn't help dreading that he was seeing his partner alive for the last time.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim charged into the Wanderer like an angry bull and left his horse feeling put off and ignored outside the door. The door ricocheted off the wall and slammed closed behind him. What he was going to do was wire Richmond, who wasn't far away, and take a whole team down there to search the hospital. Even if Jim didn't know exactly what was happening he knew those doctors were behind it and he would have their confessions.

The telegraph key, surprisingly, didn't break under Jim's forceful typing. But once Jim had sent his message he suddenly felt out of steam and dropped himself into a chair. It was anticlimactic to have a plan but have to wait to follow through with it. Those doctors… If Jim had to guess, were probably being paid in stolen gold to hold his partner captive, and it wasn't a secret that the hospital was lacking funds. The nagging part was that none of it made any sense. What was Senator Millard trying to prove through all this, other than that he hated the government he worked for?

And Artie… Jim picked up the little vial and pulled out the stopper trying carefully to see if its contents had a smell… What did Artie know that was worth silencing him in such a manner? Why not just kill him? Why allow him to stay in the hospital where an agent was bound to find him? In between each thought Miss Decker's voice haunted him in the matter of fact way she discussed brain damage as if it was Sunday brunch.

Unable to smell anything Jim carefully tipped the vile until enough had slid to the open end where he could get a small amount onto his finger tip. Jim paused for a moment, partially nervous about the filth of its origin and partially nervous about the effects he assumed it had, then he tasted it. The bitter and metallic taste made him cringe but didn't surprise him. He had tasted it before. Jim pulled out a handkerchief and spit into it.

He leaned on his hand a moment, relaxing into his chair, then the reply came on the telegraph. Richmond said that he was coming immediately, and also gave him a warning. Three agents had been shot by someone assumed to be working for Millard. The man had gotten away before he could be pursued. All the agents in the area were being recalled due to the danger and Jim was no exception. Jim took note grimly. He had seen the worst Millard could do because he had done it to Jim's partner. In a moment his silent contemplation was over and he was off again. Richmond could be there in as little as a few hours, he'd said. Until then Jim knew some nearby agents, who had been called in to search for either Millard or Artemus, he could collect to help him. He needed them to be his witnesses.

Something about all of this was deeply disturbing. Jim almost wondered if he wasn't scared on some level. It wasn't that he doubted his own ability to find Millard and get him and every scoundrel who had aided the senator and harmed his partner behind bars… but even though justice could be dealt out the damage couldn't be undone.

If anything was going to frighten Jim West it was that.

He made sure he had his gun, and two sets of handcuffs and made for the door. Strangely, before his hand even touched the handle the door opened. The unfamiliar man on the other side struck out quickly and punched Jim in the face.

Jim stumbled back, but grabbed the back of an armchair and steadied himself. The man was armed, and there was another crowding the doorway behind him. They were brothers, Jim assumed, they had to be from their similar faces and same limp sandy hair. He wiped blood from his lip and glared at his two new guests.

"Agent West is it?" The man said, "You're precisely the person we were hoping to find."

"Then you've come to the right place." Jim said, but his voice was low and lacking any humor. "I imagine you two work for Senator Millard?"

"Do we?" The one still in back said.

The first glanced back quickly at the other, then stepped inside his brother could enter and shut the door behind them. "We were hoping you had a message for us from President Grant."

"Maybe, what are your names and I'll see if he's sent me anything lately." Both men smiled in a way that made it perfectly clear they weren't interested in jokes. _Two guns… I need the first to shift left, then he'll distract the right. Knock them out, lock them up._ Jim wasn't entirely sure who he was dealing with, but he didn't like them delaying him from his case.

"That's okay. The very fact that you're even here answers the question. But he knew the consequences, which is really only bad for you and the rest of your agent friends. But we want to give you the same offer we gave him."

Jim watched the man on the left, and guessed that he was the oldest, or had at least been put in charge of whatever operation they were conducting. "The way you explain it, I'm not sure the President ever got your message." Jim meant it. "If you sent a letter it may have been delayed…"

Finally, the man shifted just enough and Jim hooked his foot around the leg of the table and kicked it forward so it caught the man in the middle and pinned him, and his gun dropped beneath it. Then Jim tackled the other who had looked away, snapped the wrist holding the gun so it dropped and then hit the man twice in the ribs with maybe a little too much enthusiasm.

The first, having freed himself, was bending over for his brother's gun. Jim simply kicked, jumped on his chest and socked the man until he was effectively stilled. The handcuffs that were waiting on his belt ended the fight and left both men wheezing and angry but subdued. Jim's fist was throbbing but he was silently pleased that he finally had a justified reason to hit someone.

"So you two work for Senator Millard?"

"Who?" Was the cheeky answer that heavily implied yes.

Jim didn't want to wait anymore. "Why are you two playing dumb when it would be easier to just tell me? What message was the President supposed to receive?"

"Ask your partner." One grumbled.

Jim bore down on him with his green eyes. Wanting one of them to crack. Yet, either they were facing a bigger threat than jail time or they were being paid an awful lot. Regardless, he didn't want to wait for them to confess at their own leisure.

"Do you work through Senator Millard?"

"Never heard of him."

"How is he connected with Dr. Roysden?"

"Who?"

Intelligent crooks were always a problem. Jim called for the engineer and asked him to babysit until Jim could send another agent to take care of the problem. The man looked at the two prisoners and opened his mouth as if to ask for an explanation, then thought better of when Jim gave him a wary look and nodded. "Sure thing."

"It'll be fine. I'll have someone come over within an hour." Jim tried to sympathize but the two men were disarmed and handcuffed to furniture they would never be able to budge. Plus, he had bigger things to worry about.

"Okay, yes sir."

"Thanks. Maybe you can get them to confess who they work for, or their names maybe." Jim added at the door, and watched the engineer brighten at the prospect of a little spy work of his own.

There weren't any horses outside besides his own, but Jim knew there had to be more somewhere. Maybe they were waiting in the bushes with a third man. Jim drew his gun and stood in the doorway looking out casually. His own stallion didn't seem disturbed, but maybe a little bored and frustrated from being left out in the sun.

Carefully he went to the stallion and continued to looked around before mounting. He rode to the other side of the train and searched again. Richmond would be waiting. He would think something had happened if Jim wasn't there and the Colonel would be right. Jim took a last look at the train and saw its engineer raise two fingers in a casual farewell through the window. Jim nodded back and kicked his horse into a run.

wWwWw

Bern entered the room and distinguished himself by his heavy footsteps. Artie was more than able to tell who had entered his room even when his eyes were looking away. The doctor picked Artie up so quickly and effortlessly Artie's heart fluttered in surprise. The man carried him as if he were a child. _It was extraordinary_, Artie mused, _what a man could learn to do_. The thought was brief though, he was more concerned that he seemed to be going somewhere and that couldn't be a good thing at all. He could try to struggle… Artie was as in control of himself as he had been any time in the last few weeks, but being dropped on his head didn't seem very productive.

"Is it?... ah it is." Bern mumbled, sliding sideways into the backroom with a careful eye on the patient. He looked at his companions and smiled. "I thought I would bring him in here where it's warmer."

"Fantastic idea." Dr. Roysden said and came forward to help carry their charge.

Miss Decker pulled one of the cots into the middle of the room. "You both know that Mr. West will be back. What do you propose we do?"

_Give it up, for heaven's sake._ Artie was put down onto the cot and after a moment his head stopped spinning from the sudden movement. It was warmer, he found, and like the lightheadedness the trembling in his arms and legs, and the nausea that had kept him awake all night dispersed slightly. He might have been thankful that they had chosen to move him then, if it hadn't been their fault he felt awful in the first place for forcing him too drink too much during their panic after Jim left the day before. Artie wondered if he could speak. But then, he knew if he were to try the first words out of his mouth would not be nice ones.

"This has to end, you know. We're going to end up in prison for this if we're caught." Roysden was leaning over him as he said this, sad, and regretful. Artie's hand twitched, and he made it clutch the blanket beneath him. "He should be at least somewhat aware of his surroundings by now. Oh God, what if _we_ ruined his mind?"

Miss Decker put her hands on his shoulders. All three of them looked remarkably more somber then they ever had before. The emotions they expressed when they weren't being watched, or thought they weren't, were different from the usual enthusiasm. "We'll get through this. Just remember what's at stake gentlemen."

_What is at stake?_ Artie wondered. Then there were voices from the front of the facility, and the three looked at each other, wide eyed as if they were trying to silently develop a plan. Dr. Roysden rushed out with Miss Decker behind him. Bern stayed, protectively adjusting Artie's head on the pillow and waited.

"Oh Mr. West, you look a fright! What happened to you?" Miss Decker did not sound surprised, but simply concerned in a maternal way. Jim's response was just a low din that Artie couldn't make out. Just hearing his voice was a great comfort when Artie truly didn't not expect his partner to be in any sort of fit shape to come back, especially after the nature of the threat that had caused all of this.

Stressing to hear the conversation Artie's gaze fixed on the door that was just barely open. When he looked back up, moving his brown eyes with an ease he did not take for granted, they met with the man hovering over him, and Bern's were narrowed dangerously in suspicion. Artie's pulse began to race. Their awareness of his own could be very dangerous for him. Bern began to lean in and reached out to grasp his chin when the shouting suddenly grew closer and louder and the door flew open.

Jim looked eager to snap bones. Richmond pushed in with Dr. Roysden and Miss Decker behind him, and several mostly familiar agents crowded against the door of the small storage room. Jim fixed his eyes on Artie's and half smiled behind a split lip.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mr. West, please remain calm, you know it upsets the patient."

_Jim isn't, you are._ Artie's gaze had drifted to the ceiling in silent inexpressible anxiety.

Richmond tried to be as professionally dispassionate as possible as he leaned over the agent. West had been communicating with him for the last week. Brain damage, he said. Vegetable, he said. Not that Richmond hadn't seen similar things happen, but he certainly didn't expect it to happen to his best team. That's why they were on top, because supposedly Richmond didn't have to worry about them.

He expected Artemus to wink at him, show him that it was all a very remarkable hoax. He didn't.

"Kidnapping of a federal agent is a criminal offence. You can, and will, go to prison." Jim was a ticking time bomb. "You can confess, and tell us where to find Senator Millard, before you have any murder charges against you by association."

Dr. Roysden shook his head, mouth open, but didn't say anything. Richmond stood up and turned towards the man. "If the Senator is threatening you or your patients then we can promise safety, but you have to confess that you have been drugging…?" He looked to Jim, who nodded his confirmation. "Yes, drugging agent Gordon against his will."

"Sirs, I promise you we've never heard of this Senator. He isn't the Senator here in Colorado is he? I've never heard of him." Roysden looked to his colleagues, who both shook their heads. Unconsciously they seemed to draw towards each other. They had always supported the law, they had never wanted to defy it, and suddenly here they were being stared down by Washington itself. "And we haven't been giving Mr. Gordon any medications at all. His system is very weak, it would only cause him more damage…"

"You haven't been giving him anything at all?" Richmond asked, looking at each one.

"Medications? No."

"You have been giving him something." Jim said, bringing his eyes up to focus on each of the doctors in turn. "Some kind of drink, red in color." Jim produced the from his coat pocket and showed it to Richmond .

"That isn't true."

"So, nowhere in this room, which seems to have quite a lot of medications, would there be a liquid like that?"

There was a pause, but Roysden did not look at his colleagues for support. "No, I don't believe so."

_Like hell._ _I can see the damn things from here. _Artie glanced to Jim, hoping to find him searching the cases of bottles at the back of the storeroom the doctors also used as a bedroom. Instead Jim was looking at him, feet planted, fists made. He looked prepared for anything, but it was only a look.

_Look up Jim, in the open crate, there are only a few of them._ Jim couldn't hear him. Wearily, Artie let his eyes slide shut and readied himself, wishing the sick feeling in his gut would subside. The doctor's had hoped the warmness of the storage room would help revive his energy, but they didn't know how that was going to work against them.

It was more difficult that he thought, almost despairing, and his muscles seemed foreign when he willed them to move but he managed. Artie set his eyes on Jim's and twitched his head in the direction of the stacks. It was a simple gesture that might have went unnoticed normally, but Jim had been waiting for something just like that at every depressing visit he had made to the hospital.

Jim practically lurched towards the stacks when it occurred to him, having followed his partner's disconnected but determined gaze, that he would have to prove the drugs existence himself. And he knew just the way to prove it.

Bern stepped after him, cautiously hauling his form, one leg at a time, over the cot and easily wedged himself and Jim in an uncomfortable jam in the small walk space between crates. "These are all just nutrition supplements, and we would rather you didn't get them out of order."

Jim cleared his throat, nearly nose to nose with the man, but managed to keep the irate look from showing anywhere but his eyes and his balled fists. "Then you wouldn't mind letting us see them. Right Colonel?"

"Right, yes." Richmond agreed, also stepping over the cot with an apologetic look at Artie, who just returned with a blank stare, and reached into the nearest open crate. "Why do you have all these different supplements anyway Doctor?"

"It's the only way to make sure the patients get the proper nutrition. Since many of them have difficulty eating, or often have peculiar eating habits that don't include all the necessary nutrients." Roysden's voice sounded much less taxed as he answered, but his eyes were caught frantically on the bottle Richmond was turning round between his fingers.

"Oh yes?" Richmond said very calmly, peering at the label in the poor light. "What does this one supplement?"

_Evil! _Artie almost wanted to laugh. _It supplements lies and the untruths of a greedy and foul enterprise!_ He thought angrily, but still felt too overexerted to try to gain Richmond's attention.

"That one?" Roysden asked, his voice quiet and breathless.

"Yes, this one."

Jim pivoted at the doctor's obvious hesitance and eyed the bottle. "That's it. That's the one, the red fluid that was on the floor in Artie's room. You've been giving it to him." He shoved past Bern and reached over the cot to take it from the Colonel's hand. "What is this?" He demanded, in a quiet but dangerous voice.

"Oh yes." Roysden blinked several times and gave a small half hearted smile. "Yes we do. Sorry Mr. West, I didn't mention because, oh, it's a vitamin mixture, with certain minerals to help maintain his bones and muscles in the absence of regular movement. Isn't that right Marsha?" He glanced at her then away, then noticing her inattention finally turned to her. "Marsha?"

Pink cheeked and white mouthed, Miss Decker's faded green eyes studied Artemus' still face distractedly. She pressed her finger tips to her mouth as if she was about to speak but had changed her mind, and from the way her colleagues were suddenly eyeing her it was clear they didn't want her to speak either. She nodded her agreement, but no one believed her.

Jim pulled the wax stopper off the bottle. "This it isn't harmful, right?"

"No." Roysden's voice came back strong. "It isn't, but it is expensive." He reached his hand out for the bottle but Jim just turned his head to the side and smiled as he pulled it out of reach.

"I'll pay you back." Jim said, and it didn't sound entirely like he was talking about the price of the medicine. Then he tipped his head back and drank.

Roysden, with his hand still out stretched, tore the bottle away from Jim. " Miss Decker. Marsha!" He barked when she didn't acknowledge him. She blinked suddenly, her eyes were wet. "Go get a pitcher of water. Mr. West," He said very seriously, "Throw it up, now. Bern, don't we have some hydrogen peroxide in here somewhere?"

"I thought it wasn't harmful." Jim was grinning, then scowled against the bitter taste of chemicals in his mouth.

"I…"

"It's over. This is what you've been drugging Artie with, you've been working with Senator Millard and…"

"Senator Millard again? Mr. West I…" Marsha returned just then, with both the pitcher, a metal pail, and a tin cup. "Never mind, I give up." Roysden continued. "Colonel, I confess, we all do." Although silent, his colleagues looked relieved as if their loyalty to Roysden was the only thing keeping them from speaking up sooner. "But first, sit Mr. West…"

"If you're not working for him, then why would you need to hide this?" Jim growled.

Roysden nearly missed in nervousness and the wallet bounced off his fingers before he reached out and caught it between his palms. "It is over." He agreed in a whisper. Although, how Jim had managed to find the article that had been hidden in the crates was a surprise to him, the wallet was familiar.

Miss Decker glanced at the wallet that was sitting so suddenly in the Doctor's palm and her lips twitched. Quite calmly, although hardly serene, she poured a glass and handed it to Jim. "Drink, it will dilute the medicine." Jim looked at the glass, taking small even breaths, but collapsed before he could take it. The arms of Richmond, Dr. Roysden, and Bern all struck out to catch him before he ever touched the floor.

Jim suddenly felt as if he was falling backwards until he realized he had actually fallen the other way. Richmond was yelling for arrests and answers, but the doctors were suddenly very calm.

"He'll be fine." Bern told the Colonel and easily lifted Jim onto another of the cots they used as their own beds in the crowded storage room. In a softer voice that faltered, he added, "They both will, I hope."

_I damn well better be._ Jim and Artie thought, remarkably, at the same moment.

Three gun shots from outside rattled the room, and everyone covered their heads instinctually. "What is that? What's going on?" Roysden barked at Richmond. The agents in the back of the room slipped silently out when the Colonel shot them a glance.

Miss Decker sobbed and flinched at the sound of another shot, "Tell them Doctor. This has gotten out of control!"

"We were desperate," Bern added, "We weren't, I wasn't at least, thinking of the consequences."

"And when those two lads, Marsha's cousins, brought Mr. Gordon here and we saw from his wallet that he was a government man it just seemed like such a good opportunity."

Then Roysden's voice faltered. "It was wrong, it was criminal." He still held the wallet in his hand and fiddled nervously with it. Richmond held out a hand, and Roysden set it in the Colonel's palm, looking away as he did so.

Another gunshot, and the three, completely unaccustomed to the sound of guns, appeared to be loosing their nerve. "But it can't possible be worth all this violence. Colonel, who is all that gun fire aimed at?"

Richmond cleared his throat, fidgeting where he stood, and his eyes widened. "It depends on who fired the first shot. Wasn't anyone working with you?"

"Good Lord." Roysden breathed, and looked to his colleagues. "The patients must be in fits."

Jim watched the ceiling swirl and darken. He had chosen a terrible time to purposely incapacitate himself, but at least he had won his confession.

"You will stay here, and when I get back you are all under arrest." Richmond said. He glanced down at his two agents, regretfully, then back at the doctors before disappearing out the door.

"No one understands." Bern said loudly, and Richmond's head appeared again, questioningly. "They think the people here are hopeless lunatics, and it's impossible to get funding, no one approves of our methods, that's how we ended up here in the first place. No larger city would have us. We thought that if we could make you think he, Mr. Gordon, was really traumatized because of…"

"Using this." Roysden lifted the bottle up and showed to once again to Richmond, "It causes a person to appear comatose. A sort of Romeo and Juliet drug." He smiled sadly, and absently shook the bottle so the liquid sloshed against the sides with a sweet quiet sound. "Then when he got better, we'd be known for healing a government agent, and we would finally be able to get the funding our patients deserve."

"For better food, and a larger facility… we need so many things." Bern added, still kneeling over Jim.

"But we didn't know its exact effects." Marsha was sobbing now, covering her mouth with her hands and twitching at the infrequent sound of gunfire. "I trusted the current studies. They said it would be as if the subject was asleep until the drug wore off, I didn't know… Please, Colonel, don't shut us down, they need us here. These men have no one, and they deserve to be taken care of."

Richmond 's lips were sealed in a tight line, eager to leave and join his agents but also curious and not wanting to discourage them when they were suddenly so willing to confess. "And Senator Millard offered you those things in exchange for silencing Mr. Gordon?"

"I honestly don't know who that man is, or what he has to do with this." Roysden's voice grew high with stress.

"Senator Millard is the reason…" Richmond went on then stopped when an agent ran up to the door holding his gun at his shoulder.

"Millard got men on us. We got two of them and if Millard is out there somewhere too we could wrap this up…"

Jim vaguely heard the conversation but barely understood because his mind was drifting away quietly as if he were simply falling asleep, and he was certain he didn't like the sick, uncontrollable feeling at all.

Roysden's eyes had been stuck to the far wall unwilling to make eye contact out of shame, now they drifted and landed on the eyes of the man he had caused so much trouble for his own gain. Mr. Gordon's dark eyes met his with such a serious comprehension and a calm, patient rage that Roysden suddenly lost his breath. "I had no idea." He whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear but his _patient_. Miss Decker's sobs, the agent's hurried update to the Colonel, distant gunfire, and the shrieks and moans of the State Hospitals disturbed patients had turned into utter chaos, but the regret in Dr. Roysden's voice was not lost.


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

Jim knew he was on the train when he woke up, because his mind registered the gentle swaying motion, and even the settee cushions beneath him were familiar. Yet, the weight of his own body, his hair on his forehead and everything he normally associated with waking up felt uncomfortably foreign. _That can't be good._

His eyes opened, although he wasn't sure if it was because he had willed them too or not. The parlor was darkened, except for a pale light his right, but he couldn't turn his head to see the source. He couldn't do anything, and wondered how he had even opened his eyes.

"That will wear off."

_What?_ Jim didn't wonder who had spoken, it was Artie. Although he couldn't see the man Jim could imagine him perched coolly in a chair. Small alarms went of in his mind like bursts of color at the unexpected voice. After a long week of seeing his partner's face without hearing his voice, suddenly hearing it without seeing him was surreal.

"You drank an awful lot of it, not that I don't appreciate it or anything, but it wouldn't have helped if you'd killed yourself." Artie spoke slowly, with an almost breathless fatigue to his voice. "It should start wearing off by tonight though I think. It passes through the system pretty quick once it's had a few days."

Jim swallowed, involuntarily. His eyes blinked on their own, and he took in small even breaths when he felt like yelling. His body was calm but his mind was not.

Artie's face appeared suddenly before his own and gave Jim a weary half smile that grew into a impious grin. "I guess I can explain since I know you wont uh… can't, interrupt. There isn't that much really. Colonel said he'd bring me the components of the drug later, so I don't really know what they used yet. It's mostly organic though, if that makes you feel better." He studied Jim's face for a moment and his smile dimmed.

_It doesn't._

"Yeah, me neither. Anyway, apparently Millard had nothing to do with the hospital. Oh, and apparently there were two men tied to the sideboard when Richmond came, and the engineer and giving them the evil eye? May I assume they had something to do with Millard's case? If not, then we're both still in a lot of trouble."

Artie paused there and disappeared from view, there was some shuffling. "Sorry Jim, it making me nervous with you staring like that."

_How rude of me…_

"I bet you're thinking something sarcastic aren't you?"

Jim blinked indignantly.

"All you missed was one long conversation really, I missed most of it too. Apparently Richmond is letting _them_ stay for now, or something, since he doesn't want to deal with all the patients being suddenly discharged on his watch…" Artie's voice was soft as he said the last part, and Jim only assumed he was talking about the doctors. "Didn't quite pick up on all of it, that's why we're meeting him in Denver. Drop off the two guys in the hold, and see if they aren't ready to talk."

Jim was barely listening. _Artie said it will wear off, not it should wear off didn't he?_

_ "_I can't tell if you're listening." Artie's face appeared before his, this time looking slightly anxious, although Jim thought there was plenty of room to look more anxious. "You're awake, I know you can hear me." Artie dipped close to his face until their noses almost touched and looked into Jim's eyes.

"You did drink a lot more than you were supposed too though. I don't know if that would have different effects. I shouldn't, I don't think… Blink if you're listening, it should have worn off enough by now for that."

Jim blinked, but he wasn't sure it was voluntary; Artie didn't seem to think so either. He disappeared again and this time Jim heard him leave the room. Artie? _Where is he going?_

_Artie?_ His footsteps returned as if on cue. "Well I can't tell if care or not, but I was thinking…" Artie said casually, but his eyes fell to the floor and he rolled his shoulders as if they ached. He took a breath as if to speak, but then it would in a sigh and spoke in a breathless whisper. "You know all that was so pointless. We achieved nothing, if those boys don't talk we're back at square one on the case, and that man achieved nothing. He wanted money and recognition and he lost everything."

The telegraph clicked making Artie twitch. He ran his hand through his hair and gave a small embarrassed laugh before moving out of Jim's vision again to answer it.

Jim listened along carefully to the clicks. _Millard in custody. Stop._ He didn't hear anything after that except the familiar sounds of the train, until a long moment when his partner's tired footsteps came towards him.

Artie hovered over Jim's vulnerable form then sat heavily on the table. Jim could only see him from the corner of his eye looking off at nothing in thought. Then Artie leaned forward and looked at Jim again, casting off his troubled look with a quiet sigh. "Well, I was hoping there would be a book on your bedside table or something since you're stuck there. You'll just have to listen to me memorize Macbeth." _As if you haven't already?_ Jim thought and would have rolled his eyes. "…Backwards."


End file.
